This all started to evolve years ago, well past the release of "Wings of Desire," when my friend Brian conveyed having watched and been impressed with his movie "20,000 Days on Earth." I didn't get around to watching it until many years later, and it was interesting; he had certainly branched out, but I didn't embrace his music at that point.
On a trip to Washington with friends a few years back, while staying at a rental house with a true screening room, I watched "I Know This Much Is True" with Gene, and it deeply impacted me. His creative process, the intensity of emotions in the song lyrics he was writing, and the backstory around the sudden death of his teenage son all felt raw, honest, and genuinely human.
I stumbled across the Late Show interview with him and Stephen Colbert last year, which further cemented my appreciation for his take on and experiences with grief. I started to work through his back catalog and found a wide range of wonderful music, from his work with the Bad Seeds to his musical scores for numerous films. I also signed up for the Red Hand Files newsletter and set aside time each week to read the latest posts. And I watched a few videos of live performances.
I decided to see if he was touring. He was! A few months ago, I bought tickets to see him, which we did last night. But we almost didn't. I started to rethink the "ROI" of going to see him for a few reasons. I hate going into San Francisco anymore, I don't like crowds of people either, and it just felt like an impulsive move I was likely to regret. I looked to see if I could sell the tickets, but wasn't seeing an option to do so unless I took a loss on the cost. I also learned last week that Matt, who was joining us, was traveling and not scheduled to arrive until 7 PM on the night of the show, arriving in San Jose, with the show starting at 8 PM.All of this felt like challenges to overcome my just going with the flow to the best of my ability. Not a routine intuitive default, I figured that if we missed the start, we missed the start, and I wasn't locked into staying through to the absolute end either. We'd still have an hour or more driving time before getting home.
Everything ended up working in our favor. Matt's flight arrived early, we skirted some unanticipated traffic, parked close by and reasonably easily, and made it to our seats with time to spare.
While in line, we were seemingly stalled in one of many, so I moved to another. Once through that new line's security, we encountered staff members scanning tickets. One was open. I gravitated in their direction, only to suddenly realize it was Nevin, my former colleague and friend from Care2 and beyond. I was thrilled by this, to the point where it felt like the odds, the crowd flow, the stall shift were almost orchestrated to end with my reconnecting with somebody I really appreciate and connect with.
When the show began, the sound was awful. Loud, distorted, and muddy. It was almost impossible to understand what he was saying. We both noticed it, and I was starting to question whether I could endure such a poor acoustic experience. However, by the third song, the sonics had improved, and the show ended up being jaw-droppingly good! Halfway through the show, I looked at Jen and said, "We're staying through to the end," and she agreed. She was enjoying it too, as was Matt. Even the songs I'd disliked from the movie worked great within a full venue and a vast, packed floor section from which the band and performers were able to manifest undulating adoration. It was one of the best concert experiences I have had in some time, if not one of the top.
It ran just under 3 hours, and it took us another 30-40 minutes to inch our way out of the venue and to the car and then out of the lowest section of a three-story parking garage with one exit ramp through which all three levels were evacuating at once. Nobody honked, glared, pressed or stressed their way out. It was a communal moment of a shared space in a sustained connection.